


With A Voice Like That

by gettingbetter



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Facials, Hand Jobs, M/M, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 00:22:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7552948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gettingbetter/pseuds/gettingbetter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scout enjoys Sniper's taunting more than he lets on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With A Voice Like That

**Author's Note:**

> My first contribution to TF2 fandom! It took me a weirdly long time to write and is unbeta'd, but I hope you guys enjoy it anyway!
> 
> Inspired by Sniper's in-game voice lines.

“How’s that bullet for you? Feel good?”

The RED Scout stops in his tracks, dust flying up behind him as he turns his head to look at his teammate. He can’t help staring as the older man chuckles lowly, attention focused on his scope.

He also can’t help himself from opening his mouth to say, “Ya know, sometimes I really gotta wonder if you get off on this sorta thing or somethin.”

The sniper jerks backwards, jumping as though it were an enemy spy accosting him and not his own teammate, and he glares at the Scout before asking, “What in the bloody hell are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d scope out the area, see if BLU’s got any sentries set up I should be worried about. They don’t, by the way,” he says, “but smooth subject change there. Really, I _totally_ forgot that you just _dirty talked to a freakin’ corpse_.”

The Scout wants to kick himself, wants to stop fucking talking, but it feels almost too natural to be teasing the marksman like this, almost begging him to talk back. Sniper’s a man of few words, and knowing that even a small percentage of those words are dedicated to muttering twisted shit in that low voice has Scout’s interest, to say the least.

Sniper grits his teeth. Clearly, he’s not as interested in this line of questioning as Scout is. “Didn’t I see you mow down four blokes with a bloody hatchet barely five minutes ago?” he deflects.

“Well, yeah, I do my job, same as you and everyone else around here!” Scout’s getting defensive now, too, but he’s not letting it go. “I just don’t often whisper sweet, filthy nothings to the dudes I’ve just offed in a sultry tone afterwards, ya know?”

Sniper is clearly taken aback by this – by the accusation that he’s whispering filthy nothings to anyone, by the words _sultry tone_ , by really any part of this conversation – but his voice is even as he says, “Well, maybe you’d be more vocal about it if you saw a real professional at work.”

The challenge in his words doesn’t pass by Scout. His tone may have been even, but the almost dangerous edge to his words is nearly impossible to miss.

“Yeah? Well why don’tcha show me how a _real professional_ does it, then?” He knows he’s being childish, his voice dripping with sarcasm, but truth be told, he’s eager to see where this is going. To hear more of what the Sniper has to say, low and filthy and seemingly to himself, now with the added benefit of a real, live (emphasis on _live_ ) audience.

The Sniper smirks. “Gladly.”

Scout seats himself on the crate next to the Sniper that isn’t covered in jars of piss and watches the other man set his sights. Sure, he’s technically taking a break from his responsibilities in the mission, but how long can it possibly take for a BLU to run in front of the Sniper’s scope?

It takes for-freaking-ever.

Finally, there’s a movement out left from behind a shack, and Sniper aims carefully, lightning-fast and laser-smooth at the head of an enemy Sniper. He pulls the trigger quickly and efficiently, giving the other man no time to spot him first, and lets out a soft, low chuckle as he watches the man’s head explode in his sight. “Nothing personal, mate,” he mutters lowly, “I’m just better.”

The Scout raises an eyebrow, stares at the Sniper, can’t make himself look away. He sees the internal conflict playing out on his face as the other man realizes that Scout may have had a point, that this brand of pride in his work isn’t entirely kosher, that he might be enjoying playing with his food more than he admits – but he also sees the determination to stay stone-faced and not let the Scout see what he’s thinking. He may be doing a godawful job of it, but the Scout clearly isn’t doing any better at hiding his own feelings, breath suddenly coming faster and heavier than a minute ago.

It goes on like this for some time – the Sniper popping heads, punctuated with borderline obscene commentary, and Scout fidgeting in his seat as he watches. He tries his best not to draw attention to himself (a nearly impossible task for someone whose entire childhood was spent finding ways to do the exact opposite), but his resolve is crumbling fast. He’s almost got himself back under control, ready to let out an exaggerated yawn and get up to leave when the announcer signals the Sniper’s domination and the other man practically _snarls_ , “Yeah, you like that, ya little mongrel?” His grin is wide, almost predatory, and Scout is glad he didn’t stand up because his knees couldn’t hold up a tenth of his body weight right now.

“Holy shit,” he mutters. He immediately regrets it, regrets letting out a sound and reminding the Sniper that he’s there, because as soon as he does, the Sniper turns to lock eyes with him and he can’t resist the whimper that comes out of his mouth.

He also can’t resist his body’s reactions to the Sniper’s low taunts. He’d felt his underwear getting uncomfortably tight from just listening to him make threats under his breath, but now, with the Sniper’s full attention on him, he can’t hide that his pants are obviously tented, his dick completely hard.

The Sniper puts his rifle down, walks over to him, intent clear as day on his face as he leans – looms, really – over the boy.

“I take it you do like it, then,” the Sniper mutters, eyes still locked on Scout’s.

Scout lets his mouth fall open, breathing audibly heavy, and Sniper holds eye contact for a second longer before leaning down to take his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down lightly. He is rewarded with a groan from the other man’s mouth and moves one hand to press down on the tent in his pants.

Scout lets out a whine at the pressure, squeezes his eyes shut so he doesn’t have to see those predatory eyes looking back at him. It’s all too much and he’s not gonna last long like this.

When he opens them again, Sniper shoots him a grin and removes his hand ( _asshole!_ ) before moving it to the younger man’s arm, pulling him up and steering him backwards as the Sniper settles onto another crate by the wall. When the older man pulls him down into his lap and bucks upwards, prominent erection pressing against Scout’s own, he shudders in pleasure. It’s all he can do to stop himself from humping into the Sniper like a goddamn dog right then and there, and only because the man’s hand is back on the front of his pants, working the button open.

He pulls the zipper down and frees the Scout’s dick from his boxers, getting straight to work. The second the Sniper’s hand is on his shaft he thinks he’s going to lose it, but that’s nothing compared to a moment later, when Sniper leans down and spits – _spits!!_ – on the head, spreads it around with a calloused thumb.

Scout moans, deep and guttural, and Sniper lets out another low chuckle. “You really are a dirty mongrel, arent’cha,” he asks, just as he runs his thumb over Scouts slit, and Scout honest-to-god keens. “Yeah, I thought so. Filthy little wanker.”

“Snipes, please, this is- this is too much,” Scout pants, covering his eyes with his arm. “I gotta-“

Sniper slows his hand, not wanting to make a mess of both of their clothes in the midst of battle. “Can’t handle any more, huh?” he teases. “About to lose it, all over yourself like a cheap back-alley screw-“

He’s cut off by the Scout surging up to mash their mouths together, pressing against him so his back is flat to the wall behind the crate. “Gotta- gotta taste you,” Scout moans, and Sniper’s brain short circuits. He didn’t expect the boy to take the reins like this, to turn the tables on him so suddenly.

Grinning at his awestruck face, the Scout leans back, eyes heavy lidded, and makes his descent down the older man’s body, trailing sloppy licks and kisses down to the waistline of his pants.

Pulling open his zipper, Scout wastes no time in fishing out his dick and going to town. He messily licks his way up and down the Sniper’s length, slathering spit all over his dick before tonguing his slit. The taste of precum mixed with a trace of urine makes him shudder momentarily, but somehow adds to the desire filling his head and leaving him lightheaded. Wrapping his lips around the other man’s head, he teases his slit with his tongue again before he takes him in his throat.

Immediately, he realizes his mistake as he starts to gag and sputter, pulling off for air, but the Sniper’s hand is on his head, pulling him down as his other hand guides his dick to Scout’s lips. He looks up, locking eyes with the man once more before he feels movement by his face.

He only has a second to realize what’s happening before the Sniper is spilling his load on his lips, catching some on his cheeks and, _jesus_ , his eyelashes. He shudders in disgust (well, _mostly_ in disgust) as he processes what just happened, but before he can say anything, the Sniper’s thumb is on his lips, gathering his seed and forcing it into the Scout’s mouth.

Scout whines in protest. His eyes are wide as he’s confronted with the salty taste and the intrusion in his mouth, but the Sniper’s face shows no room for disagreement. Hesitantly, he gives the man’s thumb a slow lick, then sucks on it, closing his eyes and getting to work again.

When the Sniper is pleased with his work, he says, “Why don’t you go on and get yourself off,” nodding his head down at Scout’s still-aching cock as he tucks himself back in.

Without hesitation, Scout reaches down and furiously pumps himself, curling in on himself as he cums less than a minute later. The Sniper lets out a chuckle, standing back and admiring his work on the filthy, thoroughly-debauched boy before him. “That good, eh?”

The Scout groans, voice gravelly from the abuse his throat has taken, and chokes out, “Screw off.”

“Actually, since we’re in my nest right now, I’d say if either one of us needs to be screwing off right now…”

Scout lets out another long, exaggerated groan, picking himself up off the ground and taking two staggering steps before flipping him off and bolting out, presumably to respawn for a fresh set of clothes before anyone can see him.

The Sniper chuckles again, and doesn’t hold back his smirk as he sits back, adjusts his scope, and waits patiently as the war outside rages on, far away from him.


End file.
